I Have Good Reason To

Load Every Rift With Ore.

I Am In That Temper That If I Were Under Water I Would Scarcely Kick To Come To The Top.

I Wish You Could Invent Some Means To Make Me At All Happy Without You. Every Hour I Am More And More Concentrated In You; Everything Else Tastes Like Chaff In My Mouth.

A Moment's Thought Is Passion's Passing Knell.

Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art-- Not In Lone Splendour Hung Aloft The Night And Watching, With Eternal Lids Apart, Like Nature's Patient, Sleepless Eremite.